


Conjure a Divine

by morbid_beauty



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-14 15:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1271005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morbid_beauty/pseuds/morbid_beauty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard Way makes the silly decision of moving into the big city alone, seeking inspiration and opportunity. While working at a comic book shop, two things that should not be related, but are, happen: he starts creating a new superhero for a comic he's looking to write and he meets someone that's even newer to the city, a cute neighbor named Frank. How are they related? Well, Frank has too much in common with the character Gerard has created.</p><p>(Or: the one where Frank is a superhero or something and it really freaks Gerard out.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cock_Zero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cock_Zero/gifts).



> Decided to post haphazardly again. This one's for Teri, since it was her idea and her birthday a few days ago. Happy belated birthday! I hope you like this. Let's see where this one goes!

Artist’s block of any kind is an unforgiving, treacherous state to be in. It causes frustration, delays the creation and completion of art, and leaves one questioning one’s abilities. Basically, Gerard is fucking annoyed with himself and really bored. That’s what he gets for moving to New York City chasing some inspiration, he supposes; the few friends he has are burnouts in New Jersey and he doesn’t have much going for him other than his comics. It’s a lonely life indeed, the life of the artist with an artist block.

“You absolutely have to stop being so dramatic,” says Mikey, his voice sounding only slightly irritated.

“I’m in a crisis, Mikey,” Gerard says, purposefully exaggerating to annoy his brother. He switches his phone to his other ear and returns to his drawing. “And no one comes to visit me.”

Gerard has a few sheets scattered on the dining table in front of him, a superhero he’s been working on fleshing out for the past couple weeks. A fit guy in a sleek, tightly-fitting black suit (fingerless), combat boots, and a utility belt made of camo to commemorate his time in the military. Every morning before work Gerard adds a little something, does another sketch or adds to the ones he has – profile image, full-body, detail on the suit, headshot, action shot – but for the life of him he can’t draw a god damn face. There’s the mask, there’s hair that consistently changes in length and color, and there’s nothing else.

“No one wants to go all the way to Astoria to see you,” Mikey says. “I don’t want to go to Astoria. I don’t love you that much.”

“Christ, are you coming over this weekend or not?” Gerard murmurs, violently erasing the eye he’d started drawing on the guy’s face.

There’s a pause, then a sigh, then Mikey speaks like he’s smiling. “I’ll bring Ray and we can, like, get wasted and steal stuff.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They hang up. Gerard stares at the various pages ripped out of his scrapbook in turn, wishing that the weird shock of inspiration he got every morning that always made him nearly late for work would come to him once he got home and had all the free time in the world. Or at the very least it would give him enough inspiration to draw a face. He blinks a few times and stands up. If he’s planning on having a small semblance of being human, he needs to go buy groceries absolutely right now before it gets too late and take out becomes the only option. Mr. Insert Superhero Name Here (damn it, Gerard can’t even come up with a name?) will just have to wait until Gerard gets back.

The local grocery store is a god send. It has all Gerard really needs: coffee, pasta, and chips. He grabs coffee, pasta, and chips, and takes them to the counter. Does he have butter at home? He grabs some butter. He says a friendly hello to the store clerk, a balding Greek man that likes talking about how proud he is of his family, and goes to the aisle where all the soaps are. As he enters the aisle, a short guy with shoulder-length black hair and a tattoo high on his neck passes him. They mutter _excuse me_ s as they pass. Gerard sifts through the dish washing liquid.

When he gets back to the store counter, the clerk chats happily about something his youngest daughter drew in her second grade art class. Gerard, friendless and pathetic, acts enthused; that’s where it starts! Elementary school art class. Keep that alive.

“And in no time she’ll be making masterpieces,” Gerard insists while he helps bag his own groceries.

The short guy reappears as if summoned. He smiles meekly at the other two, setting his things on the counter. The clerk immediately starts registering the various items –spices, vegetables, bread – and Gerard picks up his bag, knowing he won’t be let go that easy. Not that he particularly wants to be.

“I’ve never seen your art, Gerald,” the clerk says.

“I’m a recluse in every sense of the word, man,” Gerard says. “Hey, maybe I can bring something along with me next time?”

Desperate. Pathetic and friendless and desperate. The suggestion pleases the clerk, who grins and nods profusely before reading the total to the second customer. Before Gerard can turn to leave, he notes the look of horror on the guy’s face. He reaches into his pockets, swearing under his breath. He drops crumpled pieces of money onto the counter; not enough.

“I am always two fucking dollars short,” the guy says, digging in his pockets with a look of utmost desperation.

“Don’t worry about it,” Gerard says, handing the clerk two extra dollars without thinking. The stranger looks at Gerard like he’s a saint and Gerard just smiles a little.

“Thank you so much,” the stranger says.

“No problem.”

Gerard doesn’t think much of it. He turns out the door with a final wave goodbye and starts down the street back to his apartment building, in the dark and the cold. He hears fast footsteps following him and turns to see the stranger from the grocery store running after him, bags in hand.

“It’s my first time shopping at that grocery store and I don’t want him to dislike me,” he says. “So thank you so much for the help.”

“He’s a good guy,” Gerard says, grinning. “Besides, it was literally two dollars. It’s not a big deal.”

“I don’t like owing people anything. I’m new around here. I want to make a good impression.”

“Well, you made a good impression on me.” Was that a line, Gerard? Are you kidding? Tone it down. The stranger laughs after noting Gerard’s blush. “Uh, I’m…Gerard. By the way.”

The stranger raises his groceries, lowers them, and it takes a moment before Gerard realizes he’d been offered a hand to shake. “I’m Frank,” says the stranger, looking startled by his own actions.

Gerard laughs. “We are so lame,” he says. Frank nods in confirmation.

On the walk home (they live in the same building; go figure), Gerard assures Frank that it’s a friendly neighborhood and that he’ll be okay. Frank thanks him profusely, over and over, and begs Gerard to let him repay him with dinner sometime. Maybe even tonight?

“It isn’t necessary,” Gerard insists.

“I don’t owe anyone anything ever,” Frank says sternly, pointing a finger at Gerard. They walk past the mailboxes; Frank continues down the hall as Gerard heads to the stairs. “You’ve got an outstanding dinner invitation, dude!”

Gerard chuckles. “Sure,” he calls back. He hears a _fuck yeah_ and laughs all the way up to his third floor apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

Gerard finally draws the Hero’s eyes while eating breakfast the next morning and they follow him around all day like a plague: he adds them to every sketch, finally completing them. For once, he actually draws at the comic book shop instead of reading. He sits behind the register at work, doodles the Hero’s face on receipts; just thinking about him. The mask around his eyes is colorful, unnaturally so, and fits his skin too perfectly. Make-up? Possibly. Gerard’ll decide later. At the very least, now the guy has a face and even hair; Gerard’s finally decided on short hair, dyed black and looking kind of puffy despite being straight at the length that it is.

“It looks cool,” Mikey says halfheartedly, that Saturday afternoon a few days later.

“I like it,” Ray says, more enthused.

“Well, thank you,” says Gerard, grabbing his hoodie from the couch. Mikey and Ray sit on the dinner table, scrutinizing his sketches. “It’s weird, though, that he barely has a story yet. Like, I don’t even know him. Just what he looks like.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Mikey insists. “We ain’t here to dwell on your writer’s block. In fact, we’re here for the very opposite.”

So they head around the corner to the local bar that has a pool. The only thing Gerard misses about Jersey is these two guys. They each buy drinks and put down $10 to start the game. Mikey’s going to talk their ears off, Gerard’s going to try too hard, and Ray’s going to win without really trying at all. It’s how it usually goes.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” says Ray. “I’m not that good.”

“You’re making 30 bucks tonight and it makes me angry,” Gerard says.

“Enough money to impress that guy over there even more,” Mikey says, pointing.

They all look at the direction he’s pointing. There’s a man sitting by the bar, staring right at Ray. He waves and smiles a little. He’s kind of beautiful. Ray turns back to his friends, blushing. He leans over the pool table for the break and gets a ball in immediately. He turns to the guy at the bar, who seems impressed. Gerard and Mikey bump into each other, chuckling.

It is definitely the break from a potential existential crisis that Gerard had needed. At any rate, Mikey goes on about his hook up with _the_ Gabe Saporta (it’d be easy to not believe but this is Mikey so it’s probably true), Gerard accidentally hits the cue ball at the wrong angle and shoots it at a table nearby, and Ray wins after about four rounds. He takes his winnings to the bar and sits next to the very impressed stranger from before.

“So you really haven’t made any friends?” Mikey asks as he sits at a table with Gerard. He sounds like their mother and Gerard rolls his eyes.

“The local grocery store clerk,” he says, picking up an abandoned pen from the chair before sitting. Mikey scoffs. “And, okay, I met a neighbor of mine a few days ago. But we haven’t really talked since.”

“Is he cute?”

“Why is that the first thing that comes to mind?”

“I focus on the important things.”

Ray leaves the bar with the stranger and comes back looking like he’d gotten a blowjob in an alley. Mikey and Gerard feign like they’re appalled. Mikey reminds them that he’d totally banged Gabe Saporta and they play another game after another few rounds of drinks. Ray manages to lose this one to Mikey, who buys his brother one last beer as a consolation prize.

So they’re a little drunk when they get back to Gerard’s apartment building. As it happens when inebriated, Gerard’s thoughts circled back to conversation at the bar. Yes, Frank is cute. And you know what? The only thing better than drunk Mario Kart with two awesome dudes is drunk Mario Kart with three awesome dudes. Gerard continues down the hall when Mikey and Ray head for the stairs.

“I just wanna invite Frank,” Gerard says.

“Who’s Frank?” Ray shouts down the hall. It’s funny how he only finds the up button on his voice’s volume when he’s drunk.

Gerard realizes very abruptly that he doesn’t actually know what apartment Frank lives in. He knocks on the closest door, waits, and continues to the next one. At the second one he gets a strange look from a woman with rollers in her hair. At the third one he gets Frank, bemused smile and hand behind his back. He looks fucking weird for some reason and Gerard just can’t pinpoint it. Maybe it’s the dog barking in the background.

“Hey, dude!” Gerard says.

Frank narrows his eyes, still smiling. “Gerard?” he says.

“You wanna play some fucking Mario Kart?” Gerard asks.

“Uh…n-not really, no.”

“Gerard, come on!” Mikey calls.

“Hold on!” Gerard shakes his head in exasperation and looks at Frank again. Frank chuckles but looks confused. “Dude, it’ll be a blast,” Gerard insists.

“You’re drunk and I don’t really know you,” Frank says, shrugging and leaning against the door frame. His hair brushes the frame and it smacks Gerard in the face what’s so strange.

“Your hair is gone!” he gasps, taking a step back.

Frank continues smiling with confused amusement. “I cut it,” he says. “I change my hair a lot.”

“You’re like Ramona Flowers. Or Kate Winslet!”

“I didn’t dye it, I cut it…” Then Frank turns his head to the side. “That was an Eternal Sunshine reference, wasn’t it?”

“You wanna go watch Eternal Sunshine?” Gerard says, fascinated by the idea.

Frank glances down the hall and steps away, making to close his door. “I think your friends are waiting for you so you should probably worry more about that,” he says.

“You don’t have my number. Can I give you my number?” Gerard pulls a pen out of his pocket and reaches for Frank’s arm, pulling it forward and raising the sleeve. Frank had been holding a cellphone behind his back and has some sort of tattoo around his wrist. Gerard hurriedly writes his name and number on Frank’s forearm. “I found this pen at the bar.”

“Whoa, okay,” says Frank, still amused.

“Call me soon,” Gerard says, before running away to his angry friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having so much fun writing this! Next update very soon (I wrote ahead oops). Comments would be highly appreciated <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to update earlier than originally intended because I heart Teri and we're both bummed about spoilers and stuff.
> 
> Friendship ensues!

Gerard wakes up the next morning hungover but otherwise content. So, not much has changed since art school. His immediate, knee-jerk reaction is to bring out his sketches of the Hero. First, he checks his phone for messages and, surely enough, he finds one from a number with a Brooklyn area code. Ray’s on the floor with a pillow and Mikey’s on the other side of Gerard’s bed hugging a pillow so Gerard gets out of bed with his phone and tip-toes out into the hallway to call his voicemail.

_Hey, Gerard. It’s Frank._  Gerard groans. He did not do that, it did not happen. _Just checking in on you. Hope you’re alright._  Frank sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. Great. _Anyway, call me back when you can?_

Gerard gets some aspirin from the bathroom, a water bottle from the fridge, and crackers from the counter. Then, he sits on the couch with his sketchbook to call Frank back. It’s late enough in the afternoon on a Sunday that he can do that, right? _Right?_

“He’s alive!” Frank bellows from the other end, about two rings in. Gerard whines, a blush rising to his cheeks.

“Shhh,” he says, hurting his own ears with the sound.

“Sorry,” Frank says. There’s some shuffling around in the background.

“I’m the one that should be apologizing.” Gerard puts his sketchbook down and rubs his eyes. “I shouldn’t have showed up at your door like that.”

“It’s okay. It wouldn’t have been a problem if I wasn’t on the phone with my mom.”

Well, that explains a few things. “That is adorable,” Gerard says, deadpan. He hears the sound of a door shutting and, after that, Frank’s voice kind of echoes.

“What apartment do you live in?” he asks.

“3B,” says Gerard, without really thinking about it. “Really, though, I’m sorry for being such a spaz. It was really rude of me.”

“It’s totally okay. I don’t have much going on so you gave me a story to tell.”

Gerard rolls his eyes. “Awesome.”

“Come to your door in a few seconds?”

Gerard looks at his door. “What?” he says, chuckling.

“Come to your door…now!”

He hears Frank as clearly on the phone as he hears him a few feet away by the door. Did he…? No way. Gerard keeps the phone at his ear and walks up to the door, shocked to see Frank wave through the peephole. Gerard laughs. What is going on? He opens the door and Frank hangs up his phone, offering Gerard a thermos and a small square packet.

“Whoa,” says Gerard, putting his own phone in his pajama pants pocket. “Hi?”

“Aspirin for the hangover,” Frank says, gesturing at the packet. Gerard takes it, then the thermos. “Soup because it is good no matter the ailment of your body. And I no longer owe you.”

“Thank you so much.” Gerard laughs again then slowly frowns. “Wait, so no dinner?”

“I thought you didn’t want the dinner,” Frank says, raising his brow in a challenge.

“I wouldn’t mind the dinner,” Gerard says, shrugging. He leans against his doorframe and smiles.

“Well, you have my number now.” Frank points at Gerard’s pocket, a glint in his eye as he matches the flirty smile. “So…”

Gerard nods a little. “Okay.”

“Okay. Call me soon.”

Gerard closes his eyes and bows his head in embarrassment. Frank chuckles as he turns away. Gerard watches him for a moment, wondering when exactly Frank had packed this soup for Gerard and why he’d so eagerly gone upstairs in his pajamas. He smiles to himself as he closes the door and turns to find Ray in the hall. Gerard brings his hand dramatically to his chest.

“Nice,” Ray says, nodding his approval.

“Shut up,” says Gerard. He offers Ray the thermos. “Do you want soup?”

“I am currently tasting everything I’ve had for lunch in the last week and trying to keep it in me so no. I’ll have that aspirin, though.”

They sit on the couch across from each other, legs tangled. The television is on and Ray vaguely watches it, arm shading his eyes from the sunlight bleeding through the living room window. Gerard eats crackers, warmed up soup on the coffee table as he draws the Hero in his sketchbook. He yawns, every few minutes taking a sip of the soup and smiling about Frank and his obnoxiously adorable courteousness. After a while, though, Gerard is completely engrossed in the Hero, his story quickly getting more fleshed out in his head as he draws and yawns.

The Hero isn’t a veteran; he was a military brat, Gerard decides. Saw a lot but never saw action. Gerard writes _shit got weird after that one night he and his friends snuck out to the desert and stood outside a gate they should have been nowhere near_  next to his previously written _radiation from bomb blast?_  The Hero and his friends were drunk and high, stumbling in the desert. The military tested a bomb that went somewhat out of control. The teens felt a sort of wave go through them, like a pulse in their chests. They left uninjured except for a strange, physical daze that would stick with them for days. It would take weeks for the Hero to realize that he was stronger than he should be, faster, more agile. Not exceptionally, at least not to him; just enough that it freaked him out. He told no one. If the others experienced something similar, he wouldn’t know…yet.

“Hey, fuckers,” Mikey says, rubbing the back of his head as he enters the living room.

“Gerard’s neighbor Frank is totally cute,” Ray says immediately, “and he made Gerard soup.”

Mikey raises his eyebrows at his older brother suggestively. Soup does not deserve that look. Gerard rolls his eyes. He turns the sketchbook to show it to Ray and Mikey, with its recently-sketched full-body image of the Hero accompanied by Gerard’s scrawled notes.

“This is the only man in my life, okay?” Gerard says. Mikey raises his hands defensively, Ray chuckles, and they spend the next few hours sluggish and tired.


	4. Chapter 4

Gerard is particularly exhausted a few days later at work. He’s skimming through a manga about the devil taking the souls of everyone over the age of seventeen when a familiar person walks through the front door of the shop, making the bell ring. Gerard beams; he and Frank have been talking about local places Frank should check out. When he mentioned liking comics, Gerard mentioned the shop where he works. Frank looks around curiously at first, much to Gerard’s amusement, but upon “noticing” Gerard behind the register, his jaw drops.

“Dude!” he says excitedly.

“Hey, Frank,” Gerard says, always amused by Frank’s excitability (and terrible acting).

“What a happy coincidence that you work here! I’m looking for a new series to get into, sir.”

Gerard gets out from behind the counter and gestures Frank to follow him to the back of the shop. “Let me show you some good ones,” he says.

“No cliché superhero bullshit,” Frank grumbles. Gerard gasps as if he’s offended and Frank covers his mouth to laugh.

So far, their friendship has been three brief interactions and a few phone calls. This will be the first time they actually hang out. It’s kind of quiet, and short-lived; they read a few feet away from each other, making brief comments and showing each other things, but it isn’t awkward. Gerard eventually leaves Frank to browse so that he can assist another potential shopper. He gets behind the counter again and Frank soon approaches with a stack of comics and a coy smile.

“When do you get off work?” Frank asks as Gerard rings up his purchases.

“Whenever Hank decides to show up so…anytime between 6 and 9,” Gerard says, rolling his eyes. He licks his lips, hating how dry they feel.

“Oh. Well…would you like to…?” Frank closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Gerard’s eyebrows rise. Frank points in the general direction of outside. He continues to stumble over words. “The movie theater, across the…”

Is Frank trying to ask him to the movies? “You’re a mess,” Gerard says. “Do you wanna—”

“No, _I’m_ asking _you_ out,” Frank asserts, blush deepening. “I swear to God I’m better at this but I got all flustered…”

Gerard licks his lips again, out of curiosity, and Frank looks at the ceiling impatiently. Gerard lets out a shocked laugh. “So it’s a date?” he says.

“You didn’t even let me…” Frank sighs. “I mean, if you wanna. Yeah.”

Gerard promises to stop by Frank’s after work. Frank beams and, getting on his tip-toes (his shortness is just the cutest thing), reaches across the counter to kiss Gerard on the cheek. Gerard smiles for about five minutes. He’s got a date tonight. Mikey and Ray are gonna love this.

Eventually, there’s a lull in the shop. Gerard rests his head on the counter, closes his eyes for just a second. He jolts upright when the bell of the front door rings. He smiles hello at the customer and sighs at himself. No taking naps at work, dummy. He stands from the stool behind the counter and gets his sketchbook from his bag on the ground. He’s just thought about a few new details on the Hero. He opens the sketchbook to a new page, does a quick and cheap sketch of the guy’s face, and writes a little.

This guy likes looking for trouble, so isn’t actually very good at being a hero but he’s got the heart for it. A vegetarian with a huge dog. No, a little dog. Both. That he loves like they’re his children. Gerard chuckles at the thought. He has a lot of tattoos, got his first around his 16th birthday. The radiation affected his skin, the ink in it. When he puts on his suit, all the ink pools to his face as a sort of mask around the eyes. He probably didn’t notice it himself, at first.

Gerard starts an actual sketch, one focusing really on the profile. He finishes it quickly, without thinking, and soon after, the customer comes with her purchases. He rings them up and returns to the drawing. He notices that he’s kind of drawing the Hero like Frank. How freaking annoying. He just can’t get that dumb, cute idiot out of his mind. He grins again, remembering Frank blushing and kissing his cheek. Fuck, he’s so ready to get out of here.

Of course, Hank doesn’t show to man the shop until 8:30 and Gerard tries to hide how beyond annoyed he is and just leave quickly. The comic book shop owner’s teenage son is a terrible enough title without being an asshole about it. Gerard keeps this to himself. He takes a shortcut home, too excited for his date with Frank, down a back street. It’s an unfamiliar part of the neighborhood but Gerard doesn’t particularly care. At least, not until someone grabs him and throws him against a wall.

Gerard’s head hits the brick with a thud. He swears, turning towards his attacker, only to get punched across the face. He stumbles and hits the wall again, staring into the eyes of a tall man aiming a gun at him. He’s wearing a scarf over his mouth so Gerard can’t really make out his face, not to mention that his head is throbbing and his vision is blurry. Gerard’s dizzy and confused but aware enough to be scared, terrified, as his eyes well up with tears. He raises his hands slowly.

“Empty outcha pockets,” says a hoarse, harsh voice. The man’s eyes crinkle as if he is pleased, amused even.

“I don’t…have much,” Gerard says, honestly. He realizes right away this is an idiotic thing to say but it’s too late to change his mind about it. He gets a punch in the gut, the gun slams against his temple, and he falls to his knees from the blows. He’s gasping, trying to look up and stay guarded, when the psycho tugs his hair back and presses the barrel to Gerard’s chin.

“Gimme whatcha fuckin’ have, then,” says the strange man and Gerard realizes quickly that money isn’t the point of this at all.

With violently shaking hands and tears filling his eyes, Gerard reaches into his pockets for the $16 dollars he had left over from lunch. The stranger hastily takes them from his hands and shoves them into his pockets. He steps back, still pointing the gun at Gerard’s head. His smile is devilish.

“Please…” Gerard manages, raising his hands again. It feels like his heart is rattling in his ribcage and bile crawls up his throat. “P-please, God, don’t…”

“Ain’t no God lookin’ out fer ya,” the man says. He cocks the gun. Gerard closes his eyes.

“No, just a local.”

Gerard looks toward the new voice. The man with the gun turns, aiming, but the other man—in a tight black suit with a camouflage utility belt of some sort, fingerless gloves and combat boots, colorful mask covering his eyes—turns and kicks his leg up much higher than conceivable. The suited man, who’s easily a foot shorter than the man with the gun, hits Gerard’s attacker’s wrist then steps forward and punches him in the nose. The suited man grabs the attacker, lifts him about two feet in the air with seemingly no effort, and shoves him against the wall near Gerard, who falls over and backs away.

“You’re gonna stop fucking with people for pocket change,” says the suited man, “and I’ll let you live.”

The attacker nods, looking terrified, as he holds the suited man’s forearms. His nose is bloody and he’s noticeably shaking. The suited man lowers the attacker slowly to his feet, getting a sigh of relief, and then raises his knee to the attacker’s crotch. The attacker falls to his knees and the suited man elbows the back of his neck. On the ground, the attacker whimpers his pleas which the suited man ignores as he kicks his head over. The attacker lies still, unconscious but breathing, and the suited man walks over to the gun. He picks it up and looks at Gerard.

Gerard backs away some more, shaking his head over and over. The suited man presents the gun to him. “It’s a fake gun,” says the suited man. He holds it with two hands and snaps it in half. It makes a sound like plastic breaking apart as the little black pieces sling across the alley. He tosses the bigger pieces behind him and squats near Gerard. “You’re okay now,” he says softly.

Gerard nods and promptly passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curious...
> 
> My semester is over so I should update more frequently! Thanks for being patient.


	5. Chapter 5

“Come on, come on, come on.”

Gerard blinks awake and whatever had been shaking him stops. He glances around and immediately his heart is hammering wildly in his chest, the first thought coming to mind being that gun pointed at him. He hears a solemn _shhh_ and looks up to see the suited man.

“He’s gonna kill me,” Gerard says.

“No, you’re fine,” the man says. His voice is oddly familiar, so are the eyes behind the mask, but Gerard’s vision is still kind of blurry.

“Not gonna die.”

“No, Gerard, you’re fine. I need to get you home.”

Gerard nods. The man helps him to his feet and wraps an arm around his waist. He’s shorter than Gerard by quite a few inches and really just small in general but still manages to hold Gerard up as they walk, with Gerard’s arm around his neck. They move and Gerard isn’t fully aware of it, confused and in pain.

“You might have a concussion,” the suited man alerted Gerard. “I can take you to an emergency room if you’d like.”

“I might have a concussion,” Gerard repeated. Yeah, that sounded about right. “No emergency room.”

“Is there anyone you can trust to come over or call and wake you every couple hours?”

“Frank maybe. Or Mikey.”

“Can Mikey come over?”

Gerard shakes his head. They’re quiet for a time. In minutes, they’re in front of Gerard’s building. The suited man leans Gerard against the side of the building and gets keys from his utility belt. Gerard is sliding, slipping along the wall, but the suited man throws the door open, almost breaking it, and grabs Gerard again. They enter the building, continuing down the hall and up the stairs. A lot and nothing happens and Gerard is, very suddenly, lying in his bed with covers pulled up to his chin.

“I’m…texting him and explaining that you might have a concussion and that he should call and ask you stuff in a couple hours,” the suited man says. He’s holding a cellphone, Gerard’s, and Gerard abruptly wonders how it got there. “Alright?”

The suited man gives Gerard a questionable look. “I might have a concussion,” Gerard tells him. “Alright.”

The suited man laughs a little, a sound that even makes Gerard smile. The suited man blessedly turns out the light and, with a kiss on Gerard’s forehead, flees.

Throughout the night, Mikey does his duty and gives Gerard a ring every couple hours. The first time, it startles Gerard into wakefulness. Gerard answers a list of questions about himself and goes back to sleep. The second time, he’s a little annoyed. By the fifth time, he’s resigned to it, and he gets up in the morning when Mikey tells him he’s on his way to work and won’t be able to do this anymore.

“Thanks for sacrificing sleep for me,” Gerard says, rubbing his head. “I’ll stay up now. I’ll call you if I don’t feel well.”

“You’ll call me later to explain what the hell happened regardless,” Mikey says. “Do you need me to come over? I can come over.”

“No, Mikey, it’s fine. Really. I’ll call you later.”

Gerard drags his feet down the two flights of stairs necessary to get down to the lobby. He’s in his clothes from the day before, socks padding his steps on the floor, head pounding. He remembers walking home, he remembers almost dying, he remembers a stranger tucking him in. He remembers Frank and the date that never happened. He groans loudly as he shuffles down the hall on the first floor, to the mailboxes. He hears rushed footsteps behind him as he bends over to pick up a copy of the post that’s just inside the door and startles when he turns around to see Frank suddenly behind him.

“Hey, are you okay?” Frank says, a little breathless. He’s in his pajamas and there are circles under his droopy eyes. He looks exhausted.

“You’re up early,” Gerard says, folding his paper under his arm and yawning.

Frank quickly opens his own mailbox, finds it empty, and slams it shut, causing Gerard to cringe against the sound. “Yeah, I…couldn’t sleep,” Frank says, shrugs as if it’s a regular occurrence. They walk down the hall together. “So I figured I’d…check the mail. Which wouldn’t be here yet… Anyway, your face!”

Gerard thought for sure Frank would mention the missed date before whatever bruise he is sure is on his temple. Gerard speaks weakly, halfheartedly, more annoyed than really upset. “Oh, yeah. I think I got mugged last night.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Some…guy beat the jerk up and took me home.”

“Some guy,” Frank says, almost fondly. They stop at the stairs and Gerard wants to say something but Frank seems jittery. He starts walking backward and away before Gerard can get a word in. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. Call me later? We should hang out.”

“Sure,” Gerard says, brow furrowed. Concussions suck.

Gerard drags his feet to his apartment, drops the paper on the kitchen counter, starts his coffee maker, eats crackers. He wanders around his apartment, confused, texts Mikey that he should please definitely come over. He falls on his couch and lays back. Had he had a dream last night? Where are his drawings of the Hero? He’s totally thought of something to add. He closes his eyes and probably sleeps for a moment because he jerks up when Mikey texts back. He gets his coffee and his paper and a slice of bread and sits down again.

It occurs to Gerard that Frank hadn’t commented about the missed date at all. Maybe it had slipped his mind; maybe if he’d been upset, finding out what exactly happened to Gerard made him realize he shouldn’t have been. Maybe he didn’t care at all. Either way, the entire conversation seemed odd. Gerard can’t place why. He did hit his head pretty hard, though, so he supposes that must count for something. Gerard opens his copy of the Post and decides right there to skip work. He’s just experienced a trauma; he fucking deserves a day off.

He briefly looks at the front of the paper to catch the sensationalized headline of the day, ready to skip ahead to the comics and the crossword, but when he sees the headline he sets his coffee mug down and scrutinizes it.

MASKED MAN STOPS ROBBERY

Gerard holds the paper close to his face as if it’ll make this strange occurrence more real, eyebrows furrowed as he skims the blurb on the front then hurriedly opens the paper to continue the story. _In Astoria, Queens….described by witnesses as having a small build but unbelievably fast and strong….wore a colorful mask and a dark suit….new vigilante in New York._ It had happened nearby, not long after Gerard had been rescued himself. Gerard closes his eyes, trying to remember what the man who rescued him last night even looked like. He was definitely wearing a suit. Those black combat boots, the camouflage utility belt…

Holy. _Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not very consistent, I know. I apologize. I probably would've let this story fade away if it weren't for a lovely comment I received a few days ago. I'm gonna make an effort to update every Monday (this story or other stories) so look out for that!


	6. Chapter 6

Gerard calls Mikey and paces his apartment explaining all that happened, including the realization that things were a little fishy. It couldn’t just be a coincidence. It was too much of a coincidence. Gerard had been saved by some mysterious superhero-type person and it was the same person he’d been writing about for weeks now.

“You have a concussion,” Mikey says. “Rest and I’ll call you back later, I’m busy.”

“I’m not joking, Mikey!” Gerard says. “I swear, it’s the weirdest thing in the world. It can’t just be a coincidence.”

“Do you need me to come over? I said I would. You might need to go to the hospital.”

Gerard rolls his eyes at his brother’s patronizing and amused voice. “I’ll be fine,” Gerard decides, his desperation for family from earlier having faded. “I’m fine, forget it. Screw you.”

“I’ll call you later, bro!”

Gerard hangs up and sits on the couch, immediately regretting not going to work. He does some chores, runs some errands, eats, drinks water, lies down and tries not to sleep, falls asleep anyway and is woken by his broken fire alarm going off. He gets up to turn it off, his head pounding, and sits to draw. But all he can think of is the Hero, the Hero of Astoria, and how he doesn’t want to draw or write anything related to him at all. He thinks he should be excited but in fact he’s wrecked with nerves. Creating a hero is one thing; creating the danger that comes along with it? He’d noted a mugging in his notes, felt the fear of the person being mugged, and then it had happened to him. Not again.

The next day Gerard leaves his apartment a little later than usual for work. His boss told him to relax, take a few days off, but Gerard is restless so they settled for him getting to work a little later. He’s still early for the allotted time, though, which is why he stops to chat with Frank when they bump into each other in the lobby. Gerard hadn’t called Frank the day before as promised, wanting to be alone and still kind of freaked out. Frank doesn’t seem to mind it; he beams at Gerard as they approach. The smaller of his two dogs must have noticed Frank’s interest because it starts barking profusely, jumping on its tiny legs, while the big one watches Gerard calmly. Gerard steps away, startled.

“Ignore him,” Frank says, tugging on the leash of the smaller dog. He growls. “He tries to compensate for his size by being loud. Why aren’t you quieter like your younger sister here?”

Gerard laughs at Frank’s insinuation, as well as the idea that such a large dog is the younger sibling of such a small one. “Is that why you’re so loud?” Gerard asks Frank, joking.

Frank gasps, feigning offense taken. “I RESENT THAT!” he shouts.

“Oh my God, Frank, people are _sleeping_!”

Frank looks around frantically and quickly walks toward the door. Gerard laughs as he follows. They exit the building, the smaller dog trotting ahead and the large one at Frank’s side as they go for their morning walk. Frank starts in the direction of Gerard’s job, Gerard assumes because Frank knows he’s on his way to work. He wonders, abruptly, what Frank does for work, but lets it slip his mind.

“So you never called,” Frank says.

“Rough day,” Gerard says simply.

“You could just tell me if you don’t like me. It’ll make it easier for everyone involved. No more muggings or concussions, just honesty.”

Gerard rolls his eyes. “I promise I’ll stop staging muggings and be honest.” He feels a sudden confidence and snakes an arm around Frank’s waist. He gets close to his ear and whispers, “I like you, I’m just a little shy.”

It’s true though he’s not being particularly shy in the way he’s telling Frank this. Frank, however, chuckles, cringing as if tickled by Gerard’s warm breath. He turns to face Gerard and their lips are suddenly very close. Gerard’s breath catches in his throat and he drops his arm from Frank’s waist, looks away.

“Too shy to kiss me,” Frank says, disappointed.

Before Gerard can reply, the larger dog starts barking. Another dog on a walk approaches, about the same size, and Frank’s dog seems ready to fight. He thrusts forward, barking loudly and repeatedly, and the smaller dog steps backward but barks at the strangers. Frank apologizes profusely to the woman for his dogs’ behavior; she struggles to keep her own dog away and apologizes right back. Gerard doesn’t know what to do, or if there’s anything he can do. However, a sharp tug from Frank and Frank’s dog whimpers, stepping back to sit by Frank’s feet. The strangers move away and Frank smiles amicably at them. Then he crouches, looking guilty, and his dog looks hurt.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Frank says, petting his dog and letting her lick his face, accepting his apology though Gerard doesn’t know what for. There’s no way Frank could’ve hurt the dog though it is a little surprising that he didn’t seem to struggle at all restraining the creature. Whatever it was, Gerard can’t dwell on it long. The light changes and he gestures toward it.

“I need to…get to work,” he says, already stepping away.

“We’ll have a real date tomorrow night,” Frank says, looking up from his dog and grinning.

Gerard mirrors the look. “Okay. I’ll call you when I get back from work.”

“No getting mugged!”

“I promise.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out! Thank you for the lovely comments while I was gone.

The next morning, Gerard wakes up with a ton of more knowledge about the Hero but he neglects to write it down or think about it too hard. The Hero had been in the paper again as Gerard had imagined it: a car accident stopped and an attempted murderer captured. The cops want to take the vigilante down though most of Queens is in love with him, as he’s extended his vigilante justice to other parts of the borough. He’s still being hailed the Astoria Hero. Gerard can’t keep away from it though he wants to. Mikey still thinks him crazy. It’s really annoying.

Gerard calls Frank after work, as promised. They talk about canine power dynamics and where they can meet for dinner. They decide on sandwiches at their local deli and a night in. Gerard picks up a bottle of wine on his way home and nervously paces his apartment until Frank shows up with their sandwiches.

“You don’t have to pay me back,” Frank says, swatting away Gerard’s five bucks.

They sit facing each other on the couch, socked feet up on the cushions. Frank beams when Gerard brings out the wine glasses. Frank tells Gerard that he appreciates the simple date. They play footsies and end up almost violently kicking each other, laughing as they keep their wine glasses high to avoid staining anything mildly important.

“Where are you from?” Gerard asks curiously once they’ve quit the too-physical form of flirting.

“Well, I was born in Jersey,” Frank says thoughtfully, sniffing his wine.

“Why do you say it like that?”

“I’m _from_ god damn everywhere. I am a certified, grade-A military brat.”

Gerard’s jaw drops, making Frank roll his eyes but smile. Gerard has been staying away from writing his Hero but…a little real-life research is an obvious godsend he must take advantage of. A military brat sitting on his couch! How convenient.

“What places have you been?” Gerard asks excitedly.

Frank waves his hand dismissively, but continues to speak in a proud tone of voice that tells Gerard that he does quite like talking about this past of his. “All over the country, all over the world,” Frank says. “You know, the generically exciting crap. I spent the most time in France, where I went to high school. _Paris me manque_.”

Gerard’s smile falters when he recognizes that phrase, the one that he’d woken up this morning having no knowledge of except that the Hero would say it wistfully to anyone that gave him the chance. “You speak French,” Gerard clarifies.

“ _Oui, mon chéri_. French and—”

“A little bit of German,” Gerard says, remembering more of the information he forgot to write down this morning. “But you prefer French, even over English.”

“Have you been reading my diary?” Frank says conspiratorially, still grinning as he sips.

The Hero of Astoria knew Gerard’s name. He knew where Gerard lived. Gerard is positive he had told the man neither. He looks at Frank’s smiling face and imagines that tattooed mask on it. He thinks about his drawings veering to this face. There are too many coincidences.

“You’re not real,” Gerard murmurs.

“I know!” Frank says excitably, taking Gerard’s statement like a joke. And of course it’s a joke; Gerard is being ridiculous, it can’t be true what he’s thinking. “Imagine dating a guy that can speak 2 and a half languages,” Frank continues. Gerard’s eyebrows go up. Frank blushes. “Was that too forward? We’ve been on, like, one date.”

“Yeah and you haven’t even kissed me yet,” Gerard says lightly, trying to keep his mind off of the train of thought that it’s on.

“Well, shit.”

Frank quickly downs his wine, grimacing as he takes Gerard’s drink, and leans forward as he puts both glasses on the coffee table. Gerard catches him, hands on Frank’s waist, and immediately reciprocates when Frank’s lips touch his. Damn, why did it take so long for this to happen? Gerard falls back on the couch gingerly and Frank lies comfortably on top of him.

Gerard doesn’t want to be distracted because there’s a really hot guy on top of him and he hasn’t kissed someone in a long while. But he’s thinking about the Hero and the coincidences even as Frank’s hands slide up his chest to hold his neck. Gerard wraps his arms around Frank and holds him tight, trying hard not to think about it. Soon, it’s obvious even to Frank that Gerard isn’t fully in this and he pulls away slowly.

“Are you okay?” Frank asks, small smile on his face. “Would you rather go back to the lame small talk?”

“I’m sorry, I’m just…” Gerard clears his throat, looking into Frank’s shining eyes. “I keep wondering about that Hero of Astoria guy? He’s the one that saved me from the mugging.”

Frank’s eyebrows went up and he looked unconvincingly shocked. “Oh. Wow. Is…he cuter than me? Is that why you can’t stop thinking about him?”

Frank plays with Gerard’s hair, callous fingers brushing Gerard’s cheek and ear tenderly. Frank is small but firm in Gerard’s arms and when Gerard squeezes, Frank leans into him and his eye shine almost devilishly. It’s like he’s daring him, or demanding; what’s gonna happen here?

“You’re much cuter,” Gerard insists.

Frank’s smile brightens and he kisses Gerard again. This time, Gerard is set on forgetting about the Hero. It’s blasphemous. There’s no way Frank… There’s just no way. Mikey’s right, he’s losing it. He got a head injury and his imagination has gone way out of it. 

In the meantime, they’re kissing on the couch and Gerard does stop thinking about the Hero.


	8. Chapter 8

Very suddenly, more of the story comes to Gerard. The still-nameless Hero has done a few hero-type things here and there, helping people in disguise. Stopped a mugging. Stopped a murder. Saved a child that had run out into the street. It’s exhausting, and annoying; these terrible things are going to happen anyway, aren’t they? He doesn’t have to help. But he does have to. And he will.

The Hero gets a visit from an old friend, another military brat named James. He’s been working for the military, secretly. Why is he telling the Hero? Because the Hero was there the night it happened. James was with him then. The army is trying to recreate what happened to them, to make stronger soldiers. But the Hero swears he’d never experienced anything strange. It is too sketchy, seeing James for the first time in five years and hearing about some secret military thing. The Hero would rather be an occasional rescuer in his scrap of New York.

Gerard draws panel after panel, the Hero looking more and more like Frank as he goes along. The details are so fleshed out in his mind, it’s terrifying; it’s like he’s writing a story, like any he’s ever written, but he has an inkling feeling that it’s more than that. Way more.

He draws and writes until the sun comes up, until he’s so tired the lines on the page blur. Then he stretches, hides his sketchbook under a pile on his desk, and tiptoes back to his room.

Frank is even more beautiful asleep but in a much dorkier sort of way. His mouth hangs open, all tiredness and stress gone from his relaxed, pale face. He hogs the blanket, which Gerard only smiles at. They’d taken their make out session to the bedroom and they hadn’t had sex or anything but Frank had stayed the night at Gerard’s insistence. Frank eventually tired, after neglecting to find a good reason why he needed so urgently to leave and instead spending hours talking while enveloped in Gerard’s arms.

Gerard hadn’t fallen asleep as easily. Frank’s suspicious anxiety added another dot to connect and Gerard was again mesmerized by his connection to the Hero. A few minutes of shut eye and Gerard startled awake with visions of the Hero. So he left for a while, thought a lot but not at all. He still can’t wrap his head around the idea that this small man lying in his bed could be some kind of superhero and that Gerard had anything to do with it. He attempts to crawl under the blanket without waking Frank but he snorts, groans loudly, and rolls over. Gerard bites his lip and holds in a chuckle.

“Where you were?” Frank murmurs, curling into Gerard’s side. Could he get any cuter?

“I were in living room,” Gerard says, brushing his fingers through Frank’s hair. Frank groaned at Gerard’s teasing. “Don’t worry about it. You sleep a bit more, alright?”

“You’re cuddly,” Frank grumbles. “You’re gonna make me breakfast, okay?”

Gerard smiles. Of course.

~~~

Gerard makes breakfast even though he knows Frank won’t stay. Blueberry pancakes, one giant one for each of them. Gerard sits on the couch with a steaming cup of coffee as Frank stumbles into the living room. He sees the plates on the table, the butter, the syrup, and he gives Gerard a guilty smile.

“Hey, uhm…I’d love to stay for breakfast and stuff but I’m meeting with an old friend of mine,” Frank says. James. Of course. Gerard tries not to panic at having had this knowledge. “I’m sorry I’m bailing on the breakfast I had you make.”

“It’s okay,” Gerard says, grinning. He picks up the second pancake and plops it onto his own plate, making Frank laugh. Frank walks over and sinks into the couch next to Gerard. He holds Gerard’s shoulder with one hand, touches his chest with the other, and kisses his cheek.

“Can we hang out tomorrow?” Frank asks.

“We can hang out tomorrow,” Gerard says. “Will you speak French for me some more?”

“ _Tout ce que tu veux, mon chéri_.”

“That’s just so sexy.”

Gerard attempts to capture Frank’s lips again but Frank stands, smiling devilishly, and walks backward to the front door. He mouths the word _wait_ and swiftly exits. Gerard flops onto the couch and smiles at the ceiling for a moment before all his worries from the previous night dawn on him.

A few hours later, he’s sitting at a café with his younger brother explaining everything. The drawings. The mugging. Being saved and the inexplicable concussion that Mikey stresses over for longer than Gerard would’ve liked. Speaking to Frank and connecting all the dots. He’s panicking as he explains it all, shaking, begging with his eyes for Mikey to trust in him and believe him. He needs to know he’s not going crazy. The whole time, Mikey is pretty much on board.

“And we kissed and he left and we’re going to see each other tonight again,” Gerard finishes. He can’t bring himself to eat the curly fries in front of him and Mikey eyes them greedily. Gerard pushes the plate at him and Mikey goes for the ketchup.

“I’m convinced,” he says simply and Gerard sighs. “Some freaky supernatural crap _would_ happen to you.”

“What do I do?” Gerard asks. As if Mikey would know.

“Fuck a superhero,” Mikey says with a shrug and knowing smile.

How very helpful.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have good news and bad news.
> 
> The good news is that this story got 1000 hits which is why we're getting a random Thursday update! *throws confetti*
> 
> The bad news is that this may be the last update for a while. I've not been working on this story much, my muse is stuck, so I apologize but I'm not sure when the next update is. If you also read Stunning Someone, that story will be updated more often now. But school is starting soon so...
> 
> Patience is all I ask for. <3

_It takes minutes for the Hero to run from his home in Astoria, Queens, to the deadly collision on the FDR Drive. He loses his clothes along the way: the suit underneath hugs his skin, makes his movements more nimble and makes him feel more confident. His skin shivers with the sensation of ink tugging and pulling away, swimming up his arms and torso to his neck and finally hugging his eyes. It hurts every time, like a bad sunburn that moves up his body, but he heals quickly enough: before every tattooed part of his body can swell with the strange sensation, it cools off into numbness. He’s barely recognizable even to himself when he looks like this and he doesn’t understand why it happens. But it does and there he is in Lower Manhattan, ready to save the day again._

_Red, blue, and more red lights flit around the scene, unnaturally bright against the gray Manhattan sky which is sufficiently moody for this morning rush-hour accident. The Hero takes a deep breath and focuses on the people around him, the live ones. There are two, much to his dismay; he’d hoped more would survive this crash: an unconscious little girl trapped inside an SUV, on the floor of the vehicle, hard to find; and a man barely breathing at the wheel of his leaking car which bleeds onto the paved road and into the river. It threatens to explode. He can feel how hot it is, how it’s getting hotter, how enough gas has gone to the right places. Paramedics take both visibly and emotionally injured people away from the pile up, firefighters sift through cars at a pace that will not get the job done before this disaster gets worse._

_The Hero hears gasps as people watch him leap over vehicles but he ignores them, focusing on the whimpers of the little girl in the SUV. Her mother cries for her from dozens of feet away. They don’t see her. They’re too busy._

_“It’s Astoria Man!” she yells. “He’s going to save my baby!”_

_Astoria Man? What the hell kind of super hero name is that? He sighs. He never signed up for this anyway. What matters is getting this girl free before…_

_He inhales deeply and looks over at the other car, his other main target. He suspects it could blow any second. Cops and firefighters start toward him, the fugitive vigilante as the NYPD prefers to call him. He focuses his attention on the dented car in front of him. He grips the door and clutches it, bending the metal in his fist, and tears it with a loud creek. The girl is shaking and bleeding on the floor, eyes wide and frightened. She’s in shock. He steps in and carefully plucks her out, holding her close and whispering comfortingly as he rubs her back. She cries onto his shoulder. He hops over to the nearest rescuer, a cop that’s ready to arrest him._

_“The sedan over there is going to blow,” the Hero says to the cop, who stares at him with wonder. “Clear everyone out. The rest of the cars are empty already. You’ve done a good job. Get everyone safe.”_

_“How could you—”_

_“Just_ go _!”_

_The woman nods. She coaxes the child comfortingly and returns to the emergency vehicles, quickly letting everyone know of “Astoria Man’s” warning. He doesn’t care about the dumb nickname, or how sirens are irritating his hearing, or even that the cops have a hard-on for his arrest. He sprints between the vehicles and sees the man in the leaking car, his head rested and bleeding on the wheel. The Hero’s heart hammers in his chest. How is this going to work out? The man is injured… The Hero can make it worse if he’s not careful. But he will be, he always is. He can do this. It’ll be okay._

_“Back away from the vehicle,” announces a voice overhead, a spotlight shining on the Hero. He glances up at the helicopter for just a moment before re-focusing his attention._

_“As soon as I get this man out!” he says, loudly. As loud as his voice will go, which is pretty loud. Definitely loud enough for them to hear from up there._

_He tears through the vehicle faster than any jaws of life ever could, spreading the shrieking metal apart like plastic. He reaches in just as EMTs drop from above with some kind of harnessed stretcher for the man. The Hero hoists the man onto the contraption and helps the EMTs balanced on the stretcher securely strap him in. They nod thankfully to him and he nods back; a reciprocated understanding of their jobs as helpers, rescuers. No accusations. Just admiration and respect for one another. The way the Hero wishes the cops would look at him._

_He looks up as the injured man is taken onto the helicopter. The Hero takes a moment to sigh with relief, ready to call it a day and evade the cops as he always does. He sees the smoke before he sees the fire. It explodes before he gets the chance to run._

Gerard wakes gasping, sweating, and shaking. He blinks repeatedly, rocks back and forth. It had been too real, that dream. They had been getting more detailed, sticking in his head longer. He can’t even think to write or draw anything—a few people died, a dozen were injured, hundreds are stranded in Lower Manhattan. It could’ve been worse. But it was pretty bad. Gerard rubbed his chest. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be another vision. Please let this not be real.

He gets out of bed after maybe half an hour of staring at the wall. He turns on his TV to NY1 and goes to get some water in the kitchen. His movements are slow, weighted. He sits in front of the TV and sees it like he had in his dream: dozens of cars on the northbound side of the freeway, with the southbound cleared of traffic for emergency crews to get through as well as rescue boats on the river offering assistance. Gerard shakes his head as he raises the volume and he sees him. The Hero. The man he’d been sketching for weeks.

“Astoria Man has showed up on the scene at the FDR pile up,” says a reporter’s voice.

“No,” Gerard whispers. He remembers the terror, the shock, the explosion that woke him uncertain and afraid. He remembers Frank.

In five minutes, he’s out of his apartment and on his way to Manhattan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And sorry for the cliffhanger.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been almost a year and a half since my last update and my last update ended in a cliffhanger! I'm so lame.
> 
> I've started updating [Safest Haven](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4069837/chapters/9162028) regularly, so I'm not sure how often I'll be updating this fic. But I've been writing a lot lately so we'll see!

It’s such a mess of people in the emergency room that it’s surprisingly easy for Gerard to find Frank. He wanders from curtain to curtain, glancing inside each briefly and apologizing to anyone conscious enough to care. He’d started to think that he’d gone to the wrong hospital, that Frank had been taken away to the other large emergency room ten blocks down, but he finally pulls a curtain to find a bruised little man breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling. Gerard sighs with relief and walks over, taking Frank’s hand in his own.

“Hey, there,” Frank croaks, grimacing. “How’d you know I’d be here?”

“Hunch?” Gerard says. It isn’t a lie.

“You have a lot of those, don’t you?”

Frank looks just suspicious enough that Gerard goes for it. “You saved me,” he says. “From that mugger.”

Frank locks his jaw, staring at Gerard with narrowed eyes as if assessing a decision. Finally, he nods. “I’d overheard someone talking about a jerk in that alley, mugging people with a fake gun for kicks,” he says. “I was hanging around there and…you just happened to show up.”

“What the fuck,” is all Gerard can muster now that it’s confirmed.

“Can we have this conversation after I get out of here?” The second Frank starts to stand up, Gerard moves to keep him down. It’s surprisingly difficult; Frank just gives him a look and sits up easily, despite Gerard putting all his effort into pushing him back down. He grimaces, though, and Gerard frowns. “Cops are on their way,” Frank says.

“But you’re hurt,” says Gerard

“You know who I am. Means you know what I am, what I can do. You think a little explosion is gonna keep me down long?”

Gerard worries his lip and thinks about it a moment, finally deciding, “I’ll help.”

“I hoped so.”

Frank reaches under the pillow, his face red as he holds back whatever pained noise he’s dying to make. He pulls out what look like scrubs, brings his legs over the edge of the bed, and nods at the curtains. “Close those.”

Gerard does as he’s told, turning away to bring the curtains as close together as possible. There's murmuring and shuffling outside of their little enclosed space. It’s a busy hospital. They might not even notice he’s gone, until the cops get there.

When Gerard turns back, Frank has the scrubs on over his suit. The bruises on his cheek bone seem a little duller but Gerard isn’t sure whether that’s just wishful thinking. Frank isn’t stand up straight, kind of lilting, and his breaths are labored. He’s got a determined expression on his face, though, like nothing in the world is going to stop him from leaving this hospital.

“Let’s go,” Frank says. Gerard nods slowly, hating how worried he feels.

Frank peaks his head out from behind the curtain, leaning hard against the wall almost like he can’t help it. He combs his hair down over his eyes with his fingers. There’s an achingly long moment of pause during which the colorful mask around Frank’s eyes seems to slink down his neck. Gerard barely has a moment to rethink his entire worldview before Frank waves Gerard over without looking back at him. Frank slips out from behind the curtain and Gerard follows close behind him, trying his best to act like a patient. He has no idea how to do that, though, so he kind of scrunches up his face in what he hopes looks like concern. Frank keeps his head high as they walk, seeming very confident despite his limp.

It’s surprisingly easy. They walk through the halls, take slow turns. Gerard keeps watch, going for curious new patient as he glances around at guards and cops and other hospital staff. Frank subtly looks at exit signs, though not subtly enough that Gerard doesn’t notice, and soon enough they’re out the front door. Frank pauses for a moment and Gerard bumps into him. There are cop cars up front, lights flashing as wildly as they were on TV. A couple of cops stood just feet from the entrance.

“They don’t know what you look like,” Gerard whispers.

“Right,” Frank says, and after a beat they’re walking again.

They walk calmly to the bus stop. It’s the longest Gerard has ever waited for the bus. When they get on and pay their fares, Frank takes Gerard’s hand and quickly drags him to the back of the bus. They sit down and together let out long, slow breaths. No one speaks until the bus is moving.

“The nurse that was attending to me is a fan, I guess,” Frank explains in a whisper. His face scrunches up. Gerard doesn’t understand what Frank means at first but he soon remembers that Frank is a literal superhero. “She didn’t want to see me get caught so she brought me extra scrubs. I hope she doesn’t get in trouble.”

They don’t do much more talking until they get to Frank’s apartment. Frank’s dogs bark wildly when they hear the keys jingling by the door. Frank coos to them and goes slowly to his knees once inside. Gerard heads straight to the kitchen.

“You didn’t say hi to my babies!” Frank calls. Gerard hears the door shut close and it’s the first time all morning he’s felt any sort of calm.

“I’m getting you an ice pack,” Gerard calls back. Sandwich-size ziplock, check. Paper towels, check. Ice...

“Don’t waste my ice! I don’t need a damn ice pack.”

Gerard comes out from the kitchen and folds his arms. Frank glances up from his doggy kisses. He seems amused by Gerard’s stern posture. He stands up and walks, limp-free, to the couch. The bruises are kind of green now, and there’s no redness on his face. But he was limping just a little while ago. And he had trouble breathing.

“So, like…you got healing powers?” Gerard whines.

It feels like someone is pressing their fist into his forehead and someone else is squeezing his shoulders. He tosses the sandwich bag with a folded paper towel inside it onto the coffee table then sits on the couch where the dogs give him space. They’re obviously as concerned for their owner as Gerard is. The small one is curled on his lap, while the larger one has its head on his knee. Frank pets them both.

“Let’s get one thing straight: I’m not a superhero,” Frank says sternly. Gerard scoffed and Frank wagged his finger at him. “No. I’m an accident. I got turned to 11. I...don’t have healing powers necessarily, but these abrasions will heal fairly quickly. The worst the wound, the faster it heals. My rib isn’t even broken anymore.”

Gerard must look mortified because Frank smiles sheepishly. “Your rib was broken and you don’t have healing powers?!” It starts as a shout and ends as a harsh whisper. The dogs don’t like him being loud.

“Okay, maybe I have healing powers… Happy?”

Gerard shifts a little, trying to be fully relaxed. “Yes, actua-”

Frank’s TV turns on suddenly and Gerard realizes he’s sitting on the remote. Frank jumps and reaches a shaking hand for Gerard’s arm. The larger dog whimpers and climbs off the couch, while the smaller one turns and barks at the TV. It looks and sounds like a documentary on a war. Frank flinches when a bomb goes off on screen. Gerard turns the volume down and starts to apologize to Frank when he sees that Frank is teary-eyed.

“Was loud,” Frank says, sniffling. He wipes his eyes. Gerard takes his hand before Frank can lower it.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” Gerard says. He kisses the back of Frank’s hand. “I’m gonna cook for you and sing you to sleep and tuck you in.”

Frank laughs and kind of rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to take care of me.”

“You take care of the city when no one asks you to. It’s only fair.”

Frank continues smiling softly. He stares at their intertwined hands. “Thank you.”

Gerard strokes Frank’s cheek. Frank looks up slowly. There’s a cut on his lip, which makes Gerard hesitate, but Frank only rolls his eyes and kisses him. Gerard squeezes his hand.

“That line was totally lame, by the way,” Frank says, sitting up a little straight. He continues in a mocking tone. “‘You take care of the city when no one asks you to.’ What is this, a shitty comic book?”

Gerard laughs and hands Frank the remote without saying more. If only he knew….


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna TRY to start updating this fic every other week! No promises. I am a busy bee but I do still love this fic!
> 
> <3

Gerard insists on staying over and cooking, cleaning, feeding the dogs, taking care of Frank’s wounds. Frank’s protests get weaker with every stern glance from Gerard and Gerard suspects he even begins to like the attention. Frank’s arms are folded and he’s smiling kind of goofily when Gerard finishes washing the dishes and throws himself onto the couch. Frank leans on him. Gerard drapes an arm over him and rubs his shoulder.

“Okay,” Frank says. “Ask your questions.”

“I’m not gonna berate you with questions,” Gerard says immediately. Not yet, anyway.

He wants Frank to be fully healed from that explosion before questioning his very existence to his face. Which wouldn’t take long, Gerard learned. Overnight, Frank’s bruises faded to a pale yellow and the pain in his side barely remained. Too bad Gerard has to go to work soon and he won’t be around when Frank feels 100%. He has to wait even longer for the answers he wants...and a very strange conversation.

Frank rubs Gerard’s chin with his fingertip. “How’d you figure it out?” he murmurs. “That I’m...you know, the dude or whatever.”

“You...looked familiar,” Gerard says slowly. Frank’s finger slides down the side of Gerard’s neck. “I…realized that the…Ast-toria Hero knew too much about me.”

Frank groans and drops his hand. “Astoria Hero. Christ.”

Gerard laughs. For a moment, he’s just happy to be near Frank. A for real superhero is touching Gerard like he’s something special, flirting, opening up to him. This is so cool. A nerdy little part of him is really excited.

“You haven’t told anyone, have you?” Frank asks after a short while. Now he’s playing with Gerard’s fingers.

“Mikey’s really good at keeping secrets.”

Frank sighs. “I could literally snap him in half so I hope you’re right.”

Gerard gasps and Frank giggles, trying to hide under Gerard’s arm. Gerard easily thwarts every attempt Frank makes at hiding his face, first by moving his arm then snatching a pillow then grabbing Frank’s hands. Then he kisses him and it feels so good, so normal and natural. Frank moans and giggles against Gerard’s mouth. He hoists Gerard up with two strong hands and then they’re lying down. Gerard tries not to put too much weight on Frank, knowing he’s still hurt, but Frank has other ideas.

He keeps one hand on Gerard’s arm and brings the other to his hair, slipping his fingers through. He pulls, hard, and Gerard moans. Gerard bites Fran’'s lip as revenge. Frank just sort of chuckles.

“Let’s go to bed,” Frank whispers

Gerard glances at his watch. Frank moves his hand from Gerard’s bicep and covers the watch’s face. “I have to go to work. Ow?”

Gerard hadn’t realized how his arm was hurting but he feels it full force now that Frank moved his hand away. He rubs his arm, which is red with Frank’s handprint.

“Sorry,” Frank says. “I forget how strong I am…”

Gerard kisses Frank’s beautiful, guilt ridden face over and over until Frank is begging Gerard to stop, laughing all the while. Gerard gives him one last kiss on the lips before going to put on his shoes.

“Call me if you need anything,” Gerard says at the door.

“Morrissey and Bowie will take good care of me,” Frank says from the couch, grinning as his dogs surround him.

“I can’t believe you named your dogs Morrissey and Bowie.”

“Don’t they look like them though?”

Gerard takes a moment to stare at Frank’s dogs. Little Morrissey stares back, unimpressed, while Bowie wags his tail and snuggles up to Frank’s side. “Okay, they totally do,” Gerard admits.

“Word, bitch,” says Frank.

Gerard goes to work thinking about Frank’s stupid dogs and Frank’s beautiful face. He opens the store and sells comics and chats to customers but mostly he thinks about Frank to the point that when Frank shows up, he doesn’t quite believe it. It’s hours into his shift and he is already imagining showing up to Frank’s place after the long, boring day and just cuddling on the couch. Frank brings a few comics to the counter and then leans over, grinning.

“Hey you,” he says, flirting full force.

“Hi…” Gerard holds back his smile as he scans the comics.

“See, I’m good as new!” Frank grins. His bruises are gone and he doesn’t look like breathing is torturous...

“And you’re gonna go out and risk your life again,” Gerard murmurs, his brain immediately going to worry.

Frank practically lays his body on the counter, which is a feat considering how short he is and how tall the counter is. “It’s my job,” he says.

Gerard hands Frank his comics and narrows his eyes. “What…actually is your job?” He realizes he doesn’t know as he says it. “I mean, what do you do for money? You don’t seem to be working.”

Frank bites his lip. “I’m an elementary school teacher.”

There’s a moment of silence that’s felt by the empty store, the dust gathering on shelves, the blank stare Gerard gives Frank. A pin drops somewhere nearby and if anyone is around to hear it, they do.

“Seriously?” Gerard whispers, smiling.

“My mom’s in the army, my dad’s in jail…” Frank shrugs. “I wanted a calm life.”

“Super hero that’s an elementary school teacher. That’s new.”

“Summers off!”

Frank spreads his arms again, saying, “Look at me!” with his body. Gerard chuckles. The store is pretty empty so he takes the chance to lean over and give Frank a quick kiss. Frank bites his lip and looks down, smiling.

“So, you’re hanging out with my friends this weekend,” Gerard says.

“Nooooo, we haven’t even slept together yet!”

Frank slinks away as another customer approaches the register. Gerard smiles amicably the whole time but Frank is blushing. When the customer leaves, Frank flops onto the counter again.

“They’re gonna love you,” Gerard says. “They usually like my boyfriends.”

“You better be fucking right… Wait, what? Your boyfriends?”

It’s Gerard’s turn to blush. He clears his throat and rubs some dust off of the counter. Frank just smiles at him, his eyes wide and excited.

“See you later, boyfriend,” Frank says. He waves as he walks backward out of the store, bumping into a customer.

“Bye,” Gerard says, half-laughing. He definitely can’t stop thinking about Frank now.


	12. Chapter 12

“You look really cute.”

Frank frowns at Gerard, as if the very mention of his potential cuteness made Gerard suddenly untrustworthy. Frank tugs at the bottom of his shirt, picks at the collar, sighs as he pulls up his jeans.

“What did you even tell them I was?” Frank asked.

“My cute neighbor that I’ve been hooking up with,” said Gerard.

“Can you use a word other than cute to describe me ever?”

“How about smokin’ hot?”

They’re standing in Frank’s apartment in front of a full body mirror in his room. Frank has on a collared shirt and jeans and he’s second guessing everything about his look right now. Gerard doesn’t understand why he’s so nervous to properly meet Gerard’s friends but it’s adorable. Morrissey and Bowie watch from a few feet away, giving their full support.

“We’re just playing pool,” Gerard reminds him.

“Okay, but, I…” Frank bites his lip. “I haven’t really dated in a while and I don’t want them to think I’m not worthy or something.”

Gerard furrows his brow. Then he shoves Frank toward the door. He knows Frank is letting him, because if Frank put any effort in at all Gerard definitely wouldn’t be able to move him. They head out of Frank’s apartment, out of the building, and down a few blocks to the subway station.

The bar in lower Manhattan they head to plays loud rock and roll. Frank already looks a little more comfortable once they walk in. They find Ray and Mikey in a corner with some beers, playing a one-on-one. Gerard bumps fists with Ray, hugs Mikey, and gestures to Frank.

“Guys, this is my cute-neighbor-I-hook-up-with Frank,” Gerard says.

“Boyfriend is the layman’s term,” Frank clarified. Gerard grinned.

“I didn’t know he was your boyfriend!” Mikey shouts. He punches his brother in the arm.

“I did,” Ray murmurs. He offers his hand to Frank. “Ray, the tall one.”

“Frank, the short one,” Frank introduces himself. Ray laughs. Gerard grins.

Frank and Gerard drink beers while they finish the game. Mikey plays with finesse but Ray’s the one with the talent and beats him easily. They get a second round of beers and Ray gives Frank a serious look.

“Are you good at pool?” Ray asks.

“I’m not bad?” Frank says.

“Okay, you’re on my team. The Ways suck.”

“He’s really competitive,” Mikey explains. He stands next to Ray and Frank looks a little confused. Gerard wonders if he gets that they’re fighting to have him on their team. “So you can be on his team and win, or be on mine and have fun.”

“I’m playing too!” says Gerard. “Why does no one want me on their team?

“I want you on my team,” says Frank, grabbing Gerard’s arm. Gerard smiles and gives Frank a quick kiss.

“Aww, gross!” Mikey says. He gives Ray a weird look. Ray looks confused until Mikey tries to kiss him. Then he looks scared and tries to run away.

“Your friends are weird,” says Frank, smiling.

They play a couple rounds and it turns out Frank is a great match for Ray and Mikey. When it comes to the pool game, Frank sinks them as easily as Ray does. When it comes to making odd comments and jokes about other strangers at the bar, Frank and Mikey are right on top of things. Gerard is way excited by this turn of events. Usually, Ray and Mikey tear down anyone he dates as unworthy of his awesome. But they’re all too busy having a good time for that ridiculous ritual to be a reality this time around.

“Tie breaker,” Frank demands after Ray and Mikey win the fourth game. “You gotta gimme that, Toro.”

“How about you guys play? I’m done,” Mikey says, stretching. “I’ll go get us another round.”

“I’ll join you,” says Gerard he gives Frank a quick kiss and turns to follow Mikey to the bar.

“It’s you and me, Frank, you and me,” Ray says.

Gerard leans against the bar next to Mikey, watching his best friend and his boyfriend play. Mikey has already ordered their drinks, Gerard hopes. He doesn’t want to take his eyes away from Frank.

“Frank’s really cool,” Mikey says. Which, coming from Mikey Way, is a huge compliment. He won’t even call an icy drink cool if it doesn’t have a garnish.

“Yeah, he’s great,” Gerard agrees.

The night ends shortly after that. Ray and Frank’s final game was so close, Gerard and Mikey would’ve been at the edges of their seats if they had any. Ray ended up winning but he admitted Frank was good competition. Frank seemed so happy and Gerard was so damn glad.

“We have to do this again,” Mikey says when they part ways.

“We will!” Frank calls back. Then he looks at Gerard. “That was fun.”

“It was!” Gerard beams at him. “I’m glad they liked you.”

“Me too! Oh my god, I can’t believe I was so worried for their approval. How old am I?”

Gerard laughs. They hold hands the whole way home. It’s not even a conscious effort on anyone’s part, it just seems the thing to do. On the train, they’re tired and washed over with contentment. Frank leans heavily on Gerard and they stare at their hands, how their fingers fit through each other. Gerard loves how it feels and he thinks he can stay this way forever, swaying on the train with Frank and just having him close.

“Thanks for…treating me like a normal person,” Frank murmurs.

“Thanks for keeping me company all the time,” Gerard whispers back.

The walk from the subway station is no different. Their arms and bodies are close and they’re walking in sync. Frank kisses Gerard’s cheek. Gerard playfully headbutts his shoulder. When they turn a corner, Gerard gives Frank a spin. Frank laughs and stumbles into Gerard’s arms. They kiss for a long, lingering moment. Then they continue to their apartment building, staying as close as possible.

They don’t move away from each other until they get to the lobby and turn to face each other. Gerard feels like he’s seeing Frank for the first time, he’s so enamored. His eyes are mesmerizing, his jawline intricate, the crooked smirk on his lips perfectly kissable.

“Goodnight,” Gerard says, hand still firmly holding Frank’s. He rubs his thumb over Frank’s palm and Frank steps closer, staring at his lips.

“Can I come upstairs with you?” Frank whispers. He leans up and brushes his lips against Gerard’s lips. Gerard sucks in a breath and squeezes Frank’s hand. He’s so damn close but Gerard wants him closer. He knows they’re thinking the same thing.

“Yeah,” says Gerard.

Frank follows close behind as they walk up the stairs. He leans his head on Gerard’s arm, kisses his shoulder, presses against him as they walk down the hall. Gerard’s chest feels simultaneously hollow and full, as if needing and having Frank were both too much and not enough. Frank kisses his neck when they make it to Gerard’s apartment door. Inside, Gerard presses Frank against the wall.

Their hands finally part as they wrap their arms around each other and kiss fervently. Frank hugs Gerard’s neck, on his tip toes while Gerard pulls him up with a firm hold of his waist. Gerard walks backward, giggling softly as he watches Frank stumble forward like a ballerina. Frank chuckles too and for a moment they just smile at each other. They press their foreheads and noses together, gentle, like a promise. Then Frank slides his hands down Gerard’s arms and takes his hands. He gives him one more kiss before turning and starting backward down the hall toward the bedroom.

When Gerard leans forward to kiss him, Frank skips backward. It’s like a game; one more kiss and they both win. But Frank wants to tease, so he doesn’t let Gerard kiss him until they’re inside the room and close to the bed. It’s dark, only the streetlight from outside shining through the blinds. Gerard grabs Frank and lifts him slightly, pulling him into another heated kiss. Their hands start to get greedy, rubbing down their sides and grabbing where they can, now that they can’t see. They’re stretching at each other’s t-shirts, cursing the garments for keeping them apart, and finally Gerard pulls back and takes his off.

“Good idea,” says Frank. He laughs at himself as he takes off his own shirt. Gerard looks at Frank for a moment, the little light teasing him even more, before Frank moves backward onto the bed. Gerard crawls up after him, kissing his belly then his chest then his neck. Frank makes soft, happy sounds, curling his hands through Gerard’s hair. Gerard fumbles with Frank’s belt. Frank tugs on Gerard’s hair and brings him up to kiss again, helping get his jeans off. They kick and push and laugh, moving apart once and for all to get undressed completely.

Then they’re naked, close and warm (or hot?) Now that there aren’t t-shirts to pull at, they scratch at each other’s skin and moan softly at the eager pleasure-pain. They roll so Frank’s on top and their hips move decidedly together. Soft moans turn to gasps and soon they’re just rubbing against each other, breathing small swears into each other’s ears, just feeling and being so damn close.

“Fuck me,” Gerard murmurs, when he realizes that this definitely won’t be enough.

“What was that?” Frank says, clearly teasing as he moves his hips away.

Gerard moans. “Please, fuck me.”

He blushes but Frank probably can’t tell and he probably wouldn’t care. They kiss some more as Gerard blindly reaches for his bedside drawer. Frank pulls away when it’s clear Gerard needs to be less distracted but he’s still all over Gerard, sucking on his nipples and scratching down his belly and rubbing his thighs. Gerard moans and moves up against it, eyes closed as he reaches over for the lube and a condom. He pushes the stuff into Frank’s chest and begs, again, “Please, please, come on.” Frank leans back and the light falls on him just the right way to let Gerard see his little smirk, and the shape of his dick, and the smoothness with which he gets the lube on his fingertips.

Now Gerard has his fists squeezing at the bed sheets, legs spread wide, waiting. Frank leans down and his fingers are cold but so, so welcome. Gerard gasps as Frank presses into him, spreading little butterfly kisses across his chest as comfort. Frank takes Gerard cues without a word being spoken between them, like he already knows his body; when Gerard needs to slow down, Frank stops. When Gerard’s ready for more, he adds a finger. Frank stretches him and kisses him anywhere but his lips, which is fine because Gerard is smiling and gasping. Frank doesn’t stop until Gerard is keening and so far beyond begging that he just moans out long, heavy swears, like he doesn’t know any other words. It just feels so good.

Then Frank pulls away again and Gerard watches him put on the condom. And Gerard feels him hover over him, holding up his leg, just enough light in the room that they can stare at each other for a moment right before. Then Frank is pressing into him and Gerard can’t help but close his eyes. Frank lets out small, shocked exhales as he pushes in all the way, biting into Gerard’s shoulder. Gerard drapes his leg over Frank and urges him to move. They start a steady rhythm. They stare at each other, the light just enough that they can make out each other’s faces. Mouths agape, eyes wide. They laugh at each other and break the laughter with a desperate kiss as Frank’s movements get stronger, harder, moving the bed with each thrust.

Frank moves in long, hard strokes and Gerard feels so. Damn. Full. He closes his eyes again and turns his head to the side, which Frank takes as an invitation to suck on his neck. Frank’s hands are on his thigh and hip and they’re pressing so hard it hurts but it hurts so damn _good_. Gerard tries to move up against him but it’s clear that Frank has all the control so Gerard just relaxes, letting himself feel. Frank inside him, Frank on top of him, Frank holding him the way he needs him, fucking him nice and hard. Gerard is gasping and moaning and he doesn’t know how long he’ll last like this.

The bed slams against the wall repeatedly; Gerard has a brief moment of sobriety and thinks it’s because of Frank’s super-strength but he doesn’t care. Frank can’t even seem to kiss Gerard anymore. He moans into Gerard’s neck and whispers. Gerard nods and agrees and lets himself be moved. He’s holding onto Frank desperately and he’s begging again, begging to come, begging to keep feeling this. Frank moves a hand between them and fuck, Gerard is totally gone. With Frank’s movements and his hand jerking him, Gerard holds onto Frank tight and tells him he’s gonna come. Frank nods and fucks him impossibly faster for a moment and Gerard cries out, pulling Frank close.

When Gerard comes, he leans up to kiss Frank desperately. He moves his hips and squeezes and it doesn’t take long for Frank to still for just a moment, groaning, and slow down, his breaths coming out as gasps. Frank comes just a moment later and then they’re moving in small increments, feeling the reverberating aftereffects. They slow down to a stop and just gasp and breathe hard against each other, holding each other.

Gerard smiles, sleepy and so beyond content. He could pass out right now. Luckily Frank has more energy and moves off of him. For a brief moment Gerard feels lonely but there’s Frank again, cleaning up and kissing him. A moment later, they’re under the covers and holding each other again.

“Best first time,” Frank whispers.

Gerard laughs, nods, gives Frank a squeeze. “Yeah,” he agrees.

“Can I...tell you I love you tomorrow so that it’s not totally cliche?” Frank asks shyly.

Gerard just can’t stop smiling. “Yes. And I will too.”

Frank hums. Everything, at that moment, is perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This'll be my last update for a while. There's a lot going on at work and in my personal life and I just haven't had time to write so I want to give myself a chance to just chill and get to it when I can. "A while" means a few weeks, btw, not half a year this time around. I will definitely be updating this soon, just not as soon as I wish I could!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings.
> 
> I will be attempting to update one of my stories once a week, so *crosses fingers* you should see more updates of this soon.
> 
> In the meantime, my apologies.
> 
> <3

Perfection continues the next morning. They wake up together, mostly, as the sun shines on their eyes. Frank is against Gerard’s chest and Gerard is so happy literally nothing can bring him down. Frank, however, decides to raise the sheet and ends up pouting at Gerard. 

“You have bruises on your hips,” Frank laments. “I’m sorry, I really don’t know my strength.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Gerard says. He feels himself blush. He rubs Frank’s arm, trying to reassure him. “I don’t mind a little roughness.”

Frank kisses Gerard’s chest. He reaches a hand down to massage Gerard’s hip, which is delicious and makes Gerard smile.

“This is so weird,” Frank whispers. He sounds like he’s smiling. “What is my life?”

“What do you mean?” Gerard asks.

“I’m a superhero and I just fucked my really cute neighbor.”

Gerard chuckles. “Is that…bad?”

“No! I just…” Frank sits up and leans against the headboard, making sure that the sheets stay around his waist. Gerard just looks up at him, thinking he looks good in any angle. “I got these powers when I was a teenager,” Frank continues. “Probably shouldn’t discuss how, but… I kept running from them, right? The less I use them, the weaker they get…”

Frank gesticulates wildly with his hands. Gerard traps one of his hands between both of his and kisses his fingers. Frank’s thoughtful expression brightens and he just looks so happy again.

“Then I bump into you one day and…” Frank sighs. “It’s like, it feels like someone is planning a happy ending for me.”

“That’s really sappy,” Gerard murmurs.

“I know,” Frank agrees.

“It’s adorable.”

“Shut up.”

Frank wiggles down to hide under the sheets but Gerard goes under with him. They giggle together and hold each other and kiss. Gerard thinks about Frank’s choice of words, about “someone planning” his life. Gerard hasn’t written or drawn about his Hero in some time, and he even managed to wake up this morning without any new visions, but it was always at the back of his mind. Just pressing there, waiting, as if all of these things he’s learning by divine intervention, or something, are going to be very important soon. It urks him and he has to take a moment to stop kissing Frank. He just looks at him and wonders.

“What?” Frank asks, brushing Gerard’s hair away from his forehead.

“We haven’t even gone on a date,” Gerard said. “Like, _out_ on a date.”

“We can do that now.” Frank gasps. “Breakfast date!”

Gerard sits up, stretching. “Gonna shower first. Meet me here in ten?”

Frank goes back to his own apartment and Gerard goes to his bathroom. He inspects the bruises on his hips, which only hurt a little and he kind of likes it. Having sex with Frank was definitely something different. Frank is strong, too strong, and they were too caught up in the moment to take the necessary precautions. He wonders if this had happened with Frank’s other partners, the bed slamming into the wall so hard the paint chipped. It’s all very weird but Gerard is very happy.

Frank walks back in when Gerard is still getting dressed in the bedroom. “I’ll be out in a minute!” Gerard calls, stressing over what to wear for their first out-date as if they hadn’t already seen each other naked.

“I’m totally not gonna look through your things!” Frank calls back.

Gerard laughs. A few minutes later, he walks out to find Frank sitting at his messy desk looking in one of Gerard’s many sketchbooks. His expression is contorted with confusion and fear. He doesn’t look up when Gerard enters the room.

“Frank?” Gerard says.

He marches forward. He looks at the page Frank is open to. It’s an early sketch of the Hero, the details about how he’d been changed. Frank turns swiftly to a page later on, which chronicles Frank’s meeting with his old friend James in which James warns him about the army’s sudden curiosity about the military kids in their parents’ unit. Gerard can’t believe he’d left that sketchbook there. He hates seeing that confused and fearful look on Frank’s face turn to anger as Frank looks up at him.

“What is this?” Frank asks, jaw locked tight.

Gerard’s chest burns. He stumbles over an explanation. “B-before we even met, I… I’d been drawing this…Hero?” He tries starting at the beginning, really not sure how to handle this. “And, uhm…writing down notes for a comic.”

“How do you know about James?”

“I-I don’t know, it just—”

“How do you know any of this?!”

Frank slams his fists into the table as he stands up. There’s a sharp crack and the cheap, old desk lilts to the side, some of the many papers sliding to the ground. The pages Frank has held the book open to crumble in Frank’s fists. Gerard takes a step away and raises his hands, aiming to appease. He wonders briefly if Frank would hurt him; he definitely could. But it’s clear by the pained look in Frank’s face that he’s the one who’s hurt. What could he be thinking?

“I don’t know,” Gerard says. “I don’t know how to explain it, it just—”

“James warned me,” Frank says, staring down at the pages in his hands. “James warned me about this, are you stalking me?”

Gerard’s mouth falls open. “No!” he shouts frightfully. But Frank is miles ahead.

“Is this funny to you? Spying on me and- and _sleeping_ with me to get information? Playing with my feelings?”

Frank’s hands are shaking. The tears that had been building in his eyes spill over freely. Gerard hasn’t even done what Frank has accused him of but he feels overwhelming guilt in causing this pain.

“Frank, it’s not— I’m not a spy,” Gerard says. “I'm not working for those guys, I swear.”

“Then how the hell do you know about them?”

“I wish...I had a better explanation. It just came to me. I just woke up one day and knew.”

Frank closes the ruined sketchbook. “That’s nice.” He takes a wide berth around Gerard as he storms to the door.

“Frank, please…” Gerard says weakly. He really doesn’t know how to fix this.

Frank pauses at the door. “You have no fucking idea, Gerard, no fucking idea how much this hurts,” he says, his voice cracking. “I don’t know who you are or who you work for but I’m not giving you easy access to me anymore, alright? Tell that to your fucking superiors in your weird comics.”

Frank slams the door open hard, the doorknob slamming into the wall and leaving a dent before the door slams shut again. Gerard sits down at his couch. He looks down at the shirt he’d worn in hopes that Frank would think he looked good, then he stares at his hands. So much for that date.


End file.
